


The One where Peter Finds Out that Neal Plays Guitar

by ifreet



Category: White Collar
Genre: UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-22
Updated: 2010-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifreet/pseuds/ifreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title/prompt by china_shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One where Peter Finds Out that Neal Plays Guitar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [china_shop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/gifts).



Peter pushed open the lobby doors and paused in the shadow of the building. That Neal had charmed a street musician out of his acoustic guitar -- out of his _livelihood_ \-- during the short space Peter had been inside wasn't surprising. Neal was charming. Peter was aware of Neal's charm, familiar with it. He trusted in it to gull criminals now instead of marks and was wary of it being turned towards himself, not as certain of his immunity as he needed Neal to believe.

No, what surprised him was the skill. The music filled the side street, notes bouncing off smooth stone walls like dust motes twisting in a beam of sunlight. Even from here, Peter could see the surety in Neal's hand curled around the neck of the guitar, his fingers certain on the frets, clever on the strings, coaxing cascading notes from the instrument that were somehow controlled and wild both at once. He was smiling softly, and though his eyes were hidden by the brim of his ridiculous hat, Peter thought he might be catching a glimpse of one of Neal's sincere expressions.

Neal had admitted he could play "a little." From this, Peter had expected something like the slow strumming and laborious chord changes that had seeped through the walls of his college apartment. People who played "a little" guitar struggled to create sounds that could only with charity be described as musical, music-ish, music-like. This was music.

Neal had skilled hands. Of course he did -- Peter knew that, had known that for years. He must have in order to create those masterworks of forgery, to pick pockets and locks as easily as breathing. But despite having seen Neal's metaphoric hand in cases throughout the years, he'd never really had the opportunity to watch his actual hands at work. It was beautiful. _He_ was beautiful, and Peter's chest tightened.

Neal glanced up, caught Peter standing by the building doors, and his fingers stumbled slightly. Peter wanted to ask if that stumble was accidental or intentional, if it was because Neal had seen him or simple distraction, but that wasn't his role.

He walked over like he'd never paused to listen or watch, and his face settled into the expected vaguely amused lines. "You play 'a little' guitar, huh?"

Neal smiled, wide, bright and questionable, and wound the melody to a close that sounded natural and unrushed. Coins clattered into the open guitar case in place of applause. "Just a little," he agreed. "I like to keep my hand in."


End file.
